One Last Job
by CoolDude87
Summary: A second person Mafiatale fanfiction.


Your name is Chara Dreemurr. You were the best hired gun in the Underground. At least until you hatched a plot to get out of this place. It was basically a mafia run town stuck in the 20s. You could find more than a couple of reasons for wanting out. You loved your family, strange and corrupt as they were, and you wanted to take them with you. But you had failed. And you died.

Which brings up the question: who is this kid and why are you alive?

The kid had scruffy brown hair and... yellow skin? You don't know. Whoever they were, they looked pretty damn good in a suit, if you had to be honest. They were kind of short, though.

The kid stood up off of the chair they were sitting in and grabbed a teacup. They look at you and ask you if you wanted some tea. You decline. You need answers, not drinks.

You ask how you're alive. The kid chuckles a little and holds their hand out, as if to receive something. A glowing red heart appeared in their palm and they looked at you. You had a faint red glow coming from your chest. This explains jack shit, other than the kid likes hearts? You guess?

You ask what the hell that means. They kid waves their hand around like it's not important and says that they have a job for you. You ask what kind of job. Their grin gets a bit bigger and they grab a paper off of a table. They hand it to you and it shows a list of names.

The list went as follows. Napstablook. Toriel. Papyrus. Mad Dummy. Undyne. Muffet. Alphys. Mettaton. Sans. Asgore. Asriel. Gaster. You know three of these names. The others are unknown to you.

You ask what the hell this list is supposed to mean. The kid tells you that these are people that they want you to kill. You say absolutely not, some of these people are my family. The kid loses the smile and stares at you blankly. They say they weren't asking. The kid applies pressure onto the heart and you feel a pain in your chest. You are brought to your knees, embarrassingly.

The kid lets go and you get back on your feet and you stare at them. You glare and say fine. That damned smile comes back and they say excellent. They also ask you if you want tea again. You narrow your eyes and decline, once again. You walk out the door and think up of some backhanded insults to send to that ass.

As you walk down the hall, you hear the door open and you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn to see that the kid is looking at you, frowning. You ask what the kid wants. They say that a. you don't have your equipment on you and b. you have no clue who some of these people are or where they are. You say oh.

The kid leads you to a room down the hall. Inside was a whole lot of weapons. Rifles, pistols, shotguns, anything you could possibly need to kill a bunch of people. You stare at the hoard and ask if there are any knives. The kid says huh.

You ask again where are the knives. They ask if you wouldn't rather have a gun. You say nah. You've always been best with knives. The kid asks you to at least take a revolver. You say fine. You pick up a relatively small revolver. You grab six bullets and ask the kid to show you the good stuff.

The kid leads you to a side room from the huge armory. Inside the room were a whole lot of knives. Nice. You grab a whole lot of them. You find a few weird Japanese lookin' ones and take a few of those too. You find a machete and put it in your trench coat pocket. You always had way too many goddamn pockets on this coat. Didn't really matter though. All of them are full of knives.

You exit the room with 100% more knives than when you entered. The kid looks you dead in the eye, which seems hard since they always have their eyes closed, and hands you a pamphlet. You grab it and open it up. Inside was a page with a picture a whole lot of text. The picture was of some frail lookin' ghost with a fairly nice hat. Seemed unimportant.

You ask what the deal with this guy is. The kid tells you he's a popular musician or something. You ask why he needs to die. The kid says he's fairly unimportant, but we want the other hotshots to get paranoid. You say wouldn't that be bad. The kid smirks and says no. Little bastard.

You ask where he is. The kid says he should be residing at Blook Manor as of right now. You sigh and ask for a map. The kid hands you a folded up paper. You open it up and find a spot marked in red and a spot marked in blue. Before you can ask, the kids says the red dot is where we are and the blue one is Blook Manor. You glare at them, refold the map neatly, and hand it to the kid. The kid says thanks.

You walk out of the mansion. The Underground hadn't changed a bit. The place was still dark and musty. The streetlights, the concrete, the stench. It was like you never left. To be honest, you would rather be sitting at a nice restaurant, having a bit of dessert.

But, like it or not, you have one last job to do.

 **A/N**

 **Toby Fox owns Undertale. I'm pretty sure nobody owns Mafiatale. All reviews are read. Trying something new.**

 **Next target: Napstablook**


End file.
